


Penny

by jenri



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenri/pseuds/jenri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the weeks after the end of the finale of Daredevil S2, Frank Castle tracks down Karen Page to ask for a small favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Ghosts Take Public Transportation

The light from the bus stop flickers, and an advertisement for furniture varnish is cast into spasms of neon and darkness. Unable to decipher the lines of text in a battered copy of _Crime and Punishment_ , Karen avoids the headache and carefully closes it shut, fingers gliding across the "New York Public Library" sticker stamped on its front.

Her car is still in the shop after the incident with the colonel, but she's not exactly eager to begin driving it again. So instead of emptying her pockets to take a cab everywhere, she's become familiar with the local transit system. A part of her thought that becoming a journalist would require more time spent behind a monitor, but she finds herself just as--if not more--active as before. A part of her is relieved.

The clunking, metallic sound of a bus running on fumes signals its approach, and she stands to patiently wait for the door to shuttle open and reveal relatively vacant rows of seats and a tired driver reaching for his thermos like it contained the elixir of life. She takes her usual seat towards the back. The bus is dimly-lit, but it's better than the strobe lights at the stop, so she takes out her book once more.

A dog barks behind her.

She doesn't look up from her book. "When did you get a dog?"

The voice is brusque, steady, like the rough edges of a brick wall--and deceptively soft. "When did you start reading Dostoevsky?"

"What's its name?" she asks instead, listening to the dog shuffle impatiently in the back.

"Penny."

She sees illustrations of cartoon bears smiling and waving cookies, scattered children's toys, the flashing lights of a merry-go-round. _The plates, were they_... Drawings on the walls, sports trophies on the dressers, plastic dinosaurs and the little remote-controlled Jeep. _Use two hands and never let go_.

She whirls around, fists clenched against the seat, and says, " _I helped you remember._ "

His face is impassive against her rage, and she wonders at how long she dug at the wall, searching for redemption until her knuckles were scraped raw and still he stared at her with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "Why, Frank? What's the point of remembering if you're...if you're..." _If you're dead_.

"To hold myself accountable."

Accountability was what had drawn her to him to begin with. The ownership of one's actions, good or bad, is what she grapples with. A part of her thinks it's better to forget, but perhaps the inability to allow herself to is something she shares in common.

She glances at the dog, who pants back up at her with its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. She sighs and rubs her temple, reminding herself of the promise she made him.

"Do you like dogs?"

"Shit, Frank." He's got fresh bruises mapping the contours of his face, and it seems as if the Punisher is the one getting punished. She's followed his movements ever since she last saw him on the rooftop, mapping the trail of bodies he leaves behind. She tells herself it's strictly from a journalist's perspective, even when she's the last one at the office piecing together autopsies and rumors to paint a clear, unbiased picture of the Punisher. The truth.

He scratches the dog behind its ears and gives her that look that has haunted her for the past several weeks, a look that is both apologetic and unapologetic. "She's a good dog. And I uh, I've got some of her toys and food in this bag," he says, rummaging through a duffel bag between his feet and fishing out plush duck. Penny immediately begins wagging her tail, and he smiles a little as he gives the duck a squeeze. He wrestles with her for a bit before surrendering, the duck now the triumphant, drool-covered prize of a superior opponent.

"It's not safe for her, being with me," he says, eyes trained on Penny as she tries to decapitate the duck. "I've trained her, so she's well-behaved. She gets a little bitey when she's hungry, but her table manners have improved."

"You can't be serious." Exasperated laughter rises in her throat. "Nothing. Nothing from you for weeks, and now you just show up and ask me to take care of your dog? I promised you that you were dead to me. You don't get to ask me any favors."

"It's not a favor for me, all right?" He looks at Penny, and there's a softness that she remembers from that day at the hospital. "It's for her."

She had a dog a long time ago, a mutt her family saved from the pound. She called him Gingersnaps because it was her favorite thing in the world, and soon he claimed that coveted position through games of tug-o-war and shared afternoon naps. He was already old when they got him though, so she didn't have him for very long before they went their separate ways. She swore never to get another dog, convincing herself that maybe she was more of a cat person. She lied to herself then, and maybe she's lying to herself now as she tells herself, just this once. She'll break her promise.

She sighs, leaning over to stroke the now peaceful dog, already regretting the words as they leave her mouth. "Hey, Penny."

A tail wag. A good start, she thinks, although looking at Frank's soft smile she can't tell if this is a beginning or an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfic ever, so congrats to Kastle for propelling me into putting this together. This started out more as an image that I had in my mind, which is why it's very short. I may develop this further (as if Frank Castle's not going to visit Penny), but that largely depends on feedback and if people would like to see more. 
> 
> Again, I'm very new to the world of fanfiction, so bear with me as I stumble my way through. 
> 
> Fun fact: I once had a pitbull/labrador named Penny.


	2. Shadow Blister Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen introduces Penny to Foggy and Matt whilst ever-so-skillfully avoiding any actual form of confrontation.

"You know, I never really took you for a dog person."

"Really?" In front of the courthouse, Karen warms her fingers around a hot cup of coffee as Foggy peers at Penny with something between curiosity and mild distrust. "I used to have one when I was a kid. Called her Gingersnaps."

Foggy cautiously reaches out a hand to pet the dog, and Penny takes it as an invitation to lunge towards him, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. He jerks backwards, bouncing back to his feet and maintaining a safe distance between man and mutt.

"Sounds like a name a kid would come up with," he says as he keeps a wary eye on the still overly enthusiastic Penny.

A small whine escapes from her as she realizes that the bacon-and-egg-smelling man will not be allowing her to nibble on him anytime soon. Karen reaches down to placate Penny while searching for a way to ask as nonchalantly as possible the question that's been burning a hole in the back of her mind.

"So, um, how's...have you...how's the EmCo case going?" She doesn't meet his eye so that he doesn't see her mentally chastising herself for chickening out at the last minute. Instinct tells her that pretending not to care will make it easier to not actually care, although a part of her can't help but hope the conversation somehow turns to Matt.

"Well, copyright protection isn't exactly the most thrilling, but it's a pretty smooth case."

"Copyright? Is that all?"

"You know I can't tell you much more than that."

Karen smiles, finally looking up at him. "Worth a shot."

"You got a dog."

Her hands grip the leash tighter on reflex. His voice is always so quiet, but it manages to cut through all the background noise like it doesn't even exist. She takes a deep breath.

"Actually, she belongs to a friend. I'm just dogsitting her while she's on vacation." The lies themselves became easier to sell the more often she did them, but the surprise at just how easy it is never went away. "I didn't know you had a trial today."

"Landlord-tenant dispute."

She and Matt face each other for a moment until Foggy pipes, "As much I love basking in awkward silence, I've got a meeting in fifteen minutes, and Marci'll kill me if I'm late again. Try not to rip him to shreds while I'm gone, Karen. If Matt's getting beaten to a pulp I want to be there to see it."

The blood rushes to Karen's cheeks as Foggy squeezes her shoulder before leaving, giving Penny a wide berth as he passes by and leaves her alone with Matt. Before she can say anything, Matt squats down and begins scratching Penny beneath the chin, her tail whipping back and forth at a dangerous speed.

"What's her name?"

"Penny."

He stiffens for the briefest of moments. "That's an interesting—"

"Sorry, I have to go. I have an interview that I need to get to." She tugs on Penny's leash, who reluctantly follows, and begins to make her way to the nearest cab.

"Karen, wait." Matt reaches out for her arm but immediately lets go when she turns to face him.

She knows he can't see her, but she nevertheless bites down on her lip, afraid that even the slightest thing will betray how she feels. "Look, I told you. I just—I just need some time."

For what, she doesn't say. It's not just about the lies. She forgave Foggy of that soon enough.

Can he hear her heart racing? She hopes he can't, but that's the thing about the two of them. They can see right through each other and still miss so much else.

"I understand," he says before she can continue. "I'll be here when you're ready."

She can hear the disappointment in his voice, and it triggers a pang of guilt that makes her want to take his hand, sit them down on a bench, and continue from that night at the Indian restaurant, as if all that had transpired since had evaporated. But, she thinks as she watches Matt walk away, they can only manufacture so many perfect nights. In that sense, she can't fault Matt for being the first to take off his mask.

* * *

Penny, it turns out, is nothing like Gingersnaps. The pitbull tends to explore the world much like a newborn child does—by chewing things.

Still, when Karen returns each night to an apartment in disarray, stuffing liberated from the sofa's tyrannical binds, it is not Penny's name that she curses into a glass of whiskey but one that has slowly disappeared from the recesses of local newspapers. New York may have forgotten Frank, passing him up for the next alluring headline, but she has not.

There's only one working light bulb in the entirety of her apartment, and it belongs to a tacky table lamp she bought from a flea market. As she stretches out on what's left of the sofa, Penny climbing up beside her, she tells herself she's just been too busy and too lazy to purchase more light bulbs to illuminate the rest of her home, but deep down there's something comforting about the dim lighting. The shadows settle across her shoulders like a familiar blanket, and the lamp provides just enough light to promise that one day she can cast off the blanket rather than retreating further into it.

_I'm already dead._

Those three words echo through her mind.

She finishes the whiskey until she can blame the alcohol for the numbness. Penny licks her arm until she smiles.

"Good girl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up a year late with a second chapter* ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I've got a vague idea for an actual plot, so hopefully developments will start developing in the next chapter...


End file.
